


Fantastic Beings

by songquake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songquake/pseuds/songquake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rubeus Hagrid, sent down from Hogwarts at age 14, had no prospects. That is, until his idol came to call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantastic Beings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tetley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetley/gifts).



> Written for HoggyWartyXmas 2012

Rubeus Hagrid's da had always taught him not to swear. But Rubeus's da wasn't around no more, and at fourteen years old, Rubeus thought he'd earned the right to think that his life had gone to complete and total shit. 

He felt guilty, though, when he did. His da had tried so hard to raise him to be a proper wizard, and less than a year after he'd died, Rubeus had got himself sent down from Hogwarts—to be cursing besides just showed how much Rubeus was a failure as a gentleman as well. 

Was thoughts like these that made him feel like he was going to fly apart, like his magic might split open and fly away with him, like his very blood might as well. 

Rubeus shivered, even though the June night was warm, and wrapped his school cloak around him. He was glad they'd let him keep that, at least, after snapping his wand and taking his Hogwarts uniform away from him, shirts and trousers as well as tie. The cloak, though, hadn't had anything that screamed "student" about it, so they'd let him keep it. 

At least for tonight. 

It's not like it would fit anyone else, anyroad. Rubeus was bigger than most adults by the time he were ten. It barely fit him, even. He was still growing, and his cloak was bought on his last shopping trip to Diagon Alley with his da—that was nearly two years past now. 

Still, he wrapped it tightly round himself, hoping to keep his body from flying to pieces.

***

"Well, let's get a good look at you." The man's voice was just slightly gruff, though Rubeus thought his accent was posh.

Rubeus stood up, wiping his hands on the fronts of his trousers to get the dirt off and offering one to the man. "Nice ter meet yeh, Mr—"

"Scamander. Though I suppose we'll learn to be on a first-name basis within the fortnight." Mr Scamander took Rubeus's hand, gave it a squeeze despite the crumbs of soil. "What are you working on here, son?" 

"Jes' tendin' the giant pumpkins, sir," Rubeus said. He was glad Mr Scamander had asked a question, since he was gobsmacked that one of his heroes might just come up and introduce himself. Didn’t reckon he'd ever be comfortable calling him by his given name, neither.

Mr Scamander frowned. "Albus—ah, Professor Dumbledore had said that you were the best with magical creatures." 

Rubeus's face got hot and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Reckon I am, but I need ter earn my keep, y'see, and this patch here needs weedin'." He wondered why Professor Dumbledore mentioned him to Newt Scamander, of all people. Rubeus was good with magical creatures, but he weren't a genius at anything. 

He was just glad Professor Dumbledore had managed to find a way to keep him here, even if he were no longer a student. Was staying in the little cottage off by the Forbidden Forest with him and everything. Great man, Dumbledore. 

"Was yeh lookin' fer the Perfesser, sir?" he asked, feeling stupid that he hadn't already asked. "I think he's up at the castle. Has lessons to teach an' all." 

The older man looked hard at Rubeus. "No, Mr Hagrid. I've come looking for you." 

"Me?" Rubeus's voice, usually deep for his age, squeaked. 

Mr Scamander quirked an eyebrow. "Indeed, Mr Hagrid. Though I suppose your professor will be joining us, so why don't we go inside?" 

Rubeus nodded dumbly. 

Inside the cottage, he banged around as little as he could while organizing some tea for his guest. _Guest_. Newt Scamander was his _guest_ , and Rubeus was fixing him _tea_. 

He tried not to slosh it as he passed the cup and saucer over. He was mostly successful. 

"Er," Rubeus said. 

He'd never been any good with small talk. 

Mr Scamander just raised an eyebrow once more. 

"You came to see _me_ , sir?" 

"Yes," Mr Scamander said, smiling. He took another sip of his tea before putting his cup down on the rough wood table where Rubeus took his meals now. "You see, I find myself in need of an assistant." 

Rubeus blinked. 

"I'm working on a sixth edition of my book, you see," Mr Scamander continued. "I've really not spent enough time cataloguing the creatures of the northern climes. But there's an awful lot of equipment that needs to be carried around, and I find it difficult to write down my observations whilst keeping track of it all." 

Rubeus nodded. That would be a problem for a Magizoological observer, he reckoned. Mr Scamander waved his hand in a gesture that clearly meant to point at Rubeus without seeming overly rude. 

"Albus said he knew a young man who had an uncommon touch with magical creatures." 

Though it still didn't explain why Mr Scamander was sitting in this ramshackle hut outside the Forbidden Forest with someone who'd been sent down and even had his wand (his _wand!_ ) snapped. 

Rubeus wondered if Dumbledore had mentioned that. 

"I don't have—" he started to explain but Mr Scamander, like many an adult Rubeus had met, didn't think he needed to listen.

"I would pay a stipend, of course," he said, leaning forward eagerly. "You won't need to worry about paying for food or accommodations, either. We'll get you outfitted with some appropriate clothes, too—a decent coat and boots, some heavier working trousers and shirts. And you'll learn a lot, of course." 

Rubeus gulped, his face hot. He was feeling worse and worse by the second, since he knew that really, he _would_ be useless, or nearly so. Still, having been interrupted once, Rubeus didn't quite have the gumption to confess that he'd been effectively shunned by magical society. Instead, he blurted, "Yeh must have some better ideas than _me_ , mustn't yeh? Someone who's got his NEWTs or even his OWLs?" Because really, the idea that Mr Scamander would want _him_ , disgraced as he was—it was ridiculous. 

He noticed a shrewd look in Mr Scamander's eye, like the man was sizing up just how ignorant Rubeus was. 

"It's not that easy to find young men available these days," the older man finally said, "what with the wars in the Muggle and wizarding worlds. And it's not proper for me to invite a young lady to accompany me, you must understand." 

"I thought yeh was married," Rubeus said, hating himself for it as Mr Scamander raised an eyebrow. "Er, sorry, sir. Only I never was much good at bein' polite." His da hadn't seen the need to stand on ceremony, mostly, and Rubeus had been roundly mocked at several points in his school career for not knowing proper manners. 

Mr Scamander's face softened, just a bit. "I suppose it's alright—we'll be getting to know each other rather well whilst on expedition," he said. Winking at Rubeus, he added, "Tents can be awful small, you see." 

Rubeus's eyes widened. "Me, in a tent?" he asked in wonder. "Din't know they made 'em big enough fer me." 

Mr Scamander just laughed. "Extension charms, dear boy," he said, sounding as jolly as Professor Dumbledore offering up some Muggle candy. "And yes, I am married, very happily so. Still, the done thing is to go out with a person of my own gender, to avoid even the appearance of impropriety." He said the last bit in a snooty sort of voice that hinted he didn't think much of that sort of attitude. He sobered again. "In any case, Professor Dumbledore has suggested that you have the kindest way with animals, that you seem to understand them better than any other student he knows. Also that you're at a bit of loose ends." He gestured to the cottage around them. 

Rubeus felt his face heat. "Right," he said. "Well, it's easy to be good with animals when you know how to talk to 'em. Or when you care to," he added. Surely other students _could_ have learnt how to be with some of the pricklier creatures Rubeus had known, if they could get to see the sweetness inside them. 

But most other students didn't recognise sweetness in their fellow humans neither, so Rubeus reckoned it was a bit of a wash. 

"Exactly, my boy!" Mr Scamander exclaimed, beaming. "That's just the sort of outlook a successful Magizoologist needs. And it's something that's nearly impossible to teach." 

Rubeus was still blushing, but with pride.

***

It took Rubeus less time than he'd expected to get used to magical travel, even though his da had never been able to find a broomstick or Floo large enough for him. Rubeus was amazed when Mr Scamander un-shrunk a broom with a stick as long as a tree trunk, the first broom Rubeus had ever managed to command, much less swoop around on. It was _wonderful_. Then, after mending and hiding Rubeus's wand in an umbrella and transfiguring the lot of it into a walking staff, Mr Scamander had shown Rubeus how useful Expansion Charms were.

The tent they stayed in was just a standard two-person size on the outside, and Rubeus, despite the earlier reassurances, doubted his eight-foot-three self would fit. He looked hard at the tent, trying to figure out how it could possibly fit them, and then cocked his head at Mr Scamander. 

Mr Scamander chuckled a little and said, "Poke your head inside, Rubeus." 

"Inside" had wood floors, a fireplace, two beds, a large sofa, table and chairs…it was outfitted better than the gamekeeper's cottage at Hogwarts—and cleaner, that was for sure. 

"Amazin'," breathed Rubeus. "I reckon I'll jes' kip on that rug," he said, pointing at the Bugbear skin before the hearthstones. The beds looked standard-size. 

"You will not be sleeping on the floor," Mr Scamander said sharply. "We'll Engorge and Strengthen one of the beds for you. Sleeping on a floor only causes back pain, and I'll be damned if I have to hear you whinge because of improper furnishings." 

Rubeus's face heated. "I don' whinge, sir," he said. "Least not about things bein' too small fer me." 

Mr Scamander snorted. "No, I suppose you wouldn't, would you?" he muttered. "Well, let's see how you work with your repaired wand, eh?" He gestured at the bed on the farthest wall. 

Rubeus hadn't done any magic since his expulsion hearing. He trembled as he pointed the walking stick at the bed. " _Engorgio_ ," he whispered. 

Nothing happened. Almost nothing, that is. The bed did seem to shiver a little.

Mr Scamander, behind him, hmphed. "Try again," he said, "this time with some conviction. You've done this spell before, yes?"

Rubeus wished he could shrink himself. "Yes, sir," he said, biting his lip.

He tried again. This time, the bed let out a large boom as it inflated to fill more than half the tent. 

Rubeus scrunched his face. "Sorry, sir," he said quietly, reaching out a hand to help Mr Scamander from where he'd been knocked on his arse. "Didn' meanta do tha'."

To his shock, Mr Scamander was grinning. "Great lot of magic, that spell had!" he said with enthusiasm. "We'll have to train you up a bit, get your spells more consistent. Would be easier with a proper wand, but we'll make do. Just make sure that you try most spells outdoors first and that you don't hold back at all if we're faced with danger."

Rubeus gaped at him. "Are yeh serious?" he said. "I could rightly cook summat with a _Lumos_ , at that rate." 

"As I said, we'll work on your control, son," Mr Scamander said. "In the meantime, let's get outside and let's see whether you can Summon enough rocks to make a fire pit."

***

Rubeus hated to admit it, but much of their work was dead boring. Lots of looking at different breeds of magical grub to see if they were finding new species or just another adaptation of ordinary Flobberworms. He was only a little interested in seeing Bowtruckles in one of their natural habitats; in the Outer Hebrides, he found himself looking wistfully at the rowan trees instead, wishing he could use some of the wood to fashion himself a new wand from one of the branches.

"I wouldn't chance it, son," Mr Scamander said knowingly. "You're able to get something out of the wand you've got, at least. If you took it apart and tried to work the core into new wood yourself…" 

Rubeus shivered. "Yeah, reckon it's a bad idea, then." 

Mr Scamander had, as usual, found a tall stump to stand upon and looked into Rubeus's eyes as he patted his shoulder. "We'll get things sorted eventually, Rubeus. Perhaps we'll be able to pay Gregorovitch a call, if the wars allow safe passage into Russia and he's still there." 

"If he's still there?" Rubeus asked, blinking. 

Mr Scamander grunted. "Well, their Muggles these days hate everything, from wizards to their own superstitions. Plus, they seem to have been in the process of driving away everyone who'd ever had any power in their families—with a name like _Gregorovitch_ , he'd probably find it more comfortable somewhere south. If he could get through the Muggle fighting, that is." 

"We're going to Russia?" 

"Well, we're looking for as many Northern Creatures as possible, aren't we? We'll be exploring as much of the Eurasian area by the Arctic Circle as we can this summer, and the North American area—Greenland, too—next summer." 

Rubeus shivered, and it wasn't from being cold. Faint memories from his earliest years tried to push their way forth—memories of stories about life in the Russian mountains. 

He shook them off. This weren't the time for wistfulness. It _were_ a time for facing his future with courage, like the Gryffindor he was. 

"O' course, Mr Scamander." 

Mr Scamander hopped down from his stump, jogging a few steps as he landed. "Now that we've checked the health of the local Bowtruckles, let's see about finding the local wizards." 

Rubeus was getting better at casting spells, particularly those that were needed every day. He shrank the tent with all its contents still in and shoved the whole thing, plus their tankards and plates, into Mr Scamander's travelling kettle. Since his large gait and feet usually made the walking staff pointless, Rubeus swung it onto his shoulder, kettle hung from the handle. 

It was only an hour's hike to the MacFusty clan's fortress. The place looked like it had been burnt—or near-burnt—quite a few times, with scorch marks on the stone by the wood gates. 

Mr Scamander snorted as he gestured to those gates. "You'd think they'd use a better material," he muttered, "or at least Fireproofing Charms." 

"We do, old Scamander, but are obliged for your concern," a voice called from the crenellation. "And ye be wantin' us to let you in and see our baists, slanderin' us the way ye do?" 

Mr Scamander stepped back. "That you, Fia MacFusty?" he called back, shading his eyes as he squinted up. "You on the hook for taking my apprentice and me around this fine afternoon?" 

"Hmph!" The voice was ground level now, as the gate heaved open. "And I suppose you'll be wanting some lunch, too?" 

The woman, when she finally emerged from behind the gates, was dressed in trousers and a tight-fitting shirt, waistcoat open above it. She was also wearing dragonhide boots and gloves, and had shorn off all her hair. 

Rubeus had never seen anything like it, but he thought she was lovely. She had a very businesslike look to her and didn't seem given to the sorts of lies and niceties that always tripped him up around girls. 

"And your assistant—oi, he'd be half-etin, wouldn't he?" It seemed Fia MacFusty had sized Rubeus up as well. "Glad I got a good denner-piece from the kitchen, then." 

"Ah yes, where are my manners?" Mr Scamander said. "Fia MacFusty, meet Rubeus Hagrid. He'll be assisting me on my travels for the next edition of _Fantastic Beasts_." 

Fia MacFusty thrust out her hand, which Rubeus shook carefully. "Pleased to meet you," she said. "He's good with the baists, then?"

"Apparently husbanded and hatched an Acromantula, and convinced it not to eat any of his classmates," Mr Scamander said.

"Aragog's a good one, Mrs MacFusty," said Rubeus, feeling under judgment. "Misunderstood, is all." 

Fia MacFusty huffed out a sort of laugh. "Fia will do," she said. "And if you think your Acromantula's just misunderstood, you're going to _love_ our little Chuckie." 

"Chuckie?" both Mr Scamander and Rubeus asked. 

"Ay, he's the real mother hen of the whole weyr, you see. Well. Except when it's breeding season. Then he'll mother the hell out of the cows, but woe betide the other bulls." 

Rubeus felt as though his eyes might fall out, he'd widened them so. "Yeh mean _dragons_?" he said breathlessly. 

"Cor, what do you think Ol' Scamander here would be trompin' thro' the Hebrides for?" Fia punched Rubeus lightly in the side of his thigh. "Certainly not for the Bowtruckles; he can find those anywhere. And the other magical baists here, well they're not the sort of _fantastic_ your readers want, right?" 

"Sadly, no," Mr Scamander said, and he did sound regretful. "Someday, perhaps, I can write an encyclopaedia of Magizoology, but Obscurus doubts they could make such a set profitable." He sighed greatly. "As though the only reason to publish were to make money." 

"Still, I don't see you striking out without a contract," Fia said, an edge in her voice. Rubeus got the feeling they were rehashing an old argument. 

"Fia, you see," Mr Scamander said to Rubeus, "is very interested in how different creatures live together in harmony or some such."

"Well, you know that our Hebridean Blacks wouldn't be able to survive without the deer of the islands," she said, "but they need the grooming of the blackbirds and Weirdbeetles as well. And their dung nurtures the soil so that both magical and mundane grasses might grow." She sniffed. "Sure, the grasses don't shoot out flares—at least not most of the time—but they're very important! And the Weirdbeetles can live in such odd conditions—" 

"Hm," Mr Scamander interrupted. "Well, I'll certainly tell my friends in Herbology to come take a look at your grasses. But you're right; I tried to include the magnificent Weirdbeetle in the first edition of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , only to have my editor strike them for being too dull." 

It was just as well that the matter was settled, since they'd reached the top of the rise they'd been hiking. Below them, amid the rocks, crags, and scrub grasses, slept a dragon. 

Rubeus felt his heart flutter. "He's _beautiful_ ," he said softly. 

"Thought you'd like him," Fia murmured back. "We oughtn't get too close, but if we're quiet, we might get to see him in action in a bit." 

" _Dormiens draco numquam titillandus_ ," whispered Rubeus. 

"Exactly," said Mr Scamander. "So why not have a quiet lunch?" 

The food that Fia had brought was simple: some cheese and sausages, and a bit of hard bread and local berries. Mr Scamander filled their tankards with a hushed _Aguamenti_ , and they dined in silence as the withers of the dragon rose and fell. 

After they ate, Fia went foraging for wild herbs and more berries to carry back to the castle and Rubeus rummaged around in the travelling kettle for his notepad. His drawings weren't what one might call fine art, but they pleased him and he wanted to remember the majesty of this sweet dragon named Chuckie forever. 

Mr Scamander, for his part, was making notations in his own book. 

"Anything new?" Rubeus asked quietly when he was mostly done with his sketch. 

Mr Scamander shook his head. "Looks like there hasn't been much disturbance here since I was last around ten years ago," he said. "Which might mean that there are even fewer of them now—you'd expect to see debris from some territorial or mating disputes." 

Rubeus felt sad at that notion. "Yeh think 'e gets lonesome?"

"Only rarely," Mr Scamander replied, shaking his head. "They like their space more than any other breed of dragon, these Hebridean Blacks." 

They watched for several hours more. Rubeus kept sketching, using Omnioculars to get a good look at the way blackbirds and Weirdbeetles would land on the dragon, the beetles burrowing under the dead scales and the birds picking off the scales to eat the beetles. When the dragon finally woke and stretched his wings, the birds and beetles alike took flight and a shower of scales gleamed as they fell. 

"Oh." Rubeus was awed. 

Mr Scamander merely nodded and held a finger to his lips. As they watched, Chuckie turned around several times, looking for predators or prey, before rolling his shoulders and taking a run into flight. 

That night, back at their camp, Rubeus decided that dragons were the most beautiful creatures he'd ever seen.

***

Mr Scamander was kind enough to take Rubeus to see the territories of the other northern dragons: Norway, Sweden, and finally the eastern Russian province of Ukraine.

Mostly, though, they were looking for _new_ magical creatures. 

Unfortunately, even the older specimens of Magizoology were harder to find, or so Mr Scamander said. 

"Too much soot in the air from all those Muggle factories," he sighed one night as they huddled in the tent, a rare summer storm forcing their fireside chat indoors. "That, and the fact that both magical and Muggle warfare are so blasted _loud_. No creature wants to expose themselves to that sort of violence." 

Rubeus nodded. Mr Scamander had been having both wizarding and Muggle newspapers flown in on Sundays, and he was rather glad to be around sometimes-ornery creatures rather than warring humans of any sort. He'd heard there were entire cities levelled, that London itself had been devastated during his own first year at Hogwarts. 

He'd been shocked to learn that, but Mr Scamander had pointed out that London was awfully far away from Hogsmeade, and that the staff likely hadn't wanted the students to worry. But it made the grey hairs and the new lines in his father's face that last year make sense. 

Rubeus wondered whether his da had died from one of the wars—the Muggle one or the one Grindelwald was waging. He'd never heard _how_ , exactly, his da had perished, only knew it was unexpected. 

Dumbledore hadn't wanted him to look at his father's face, but Rubeus had insisted. He'd had to _see_ that yes, his da was dead and getting buried. He wouldn't soon forget the grimace his father had somehow kept in death. He hadn't looked peaceful. 

Rubeus had tried hard not to think on it too much, but that sort of thing was hard when all the fresh reading material for months was tales of destruction. Also when the only magical creatures for days were domesticated Augureys, well, it was hard not to think of the worst. 

"Knut for your thoughts, Rubeus?" Mr Scamander said, pulling Rubeus out of his gloomy daydream. His voice was kind. 

Rubeus shook his head a little. "Nothin' ter speak of, really. Thinkin' abou' me da, an' how nobody never told me much abou' how 'e died." His speech always got worse when he was upset. He grimaced in self-loathing. 

"You were really close to him, were you?" Mr Scamander moved closer, standing to put a hand on Rubeus's shoulder. 

Rubeus nodded. "He were me only family, once Mum was gone," he choked out, fat tears slipping inevitably down his face. "We din't have much, but he gave me all he could." Rubeus hiccoughed. "Love, right? An' faith. He had faith in me, even though I were a half-giant and barely able to get along with most wizards." 

"Sounds like a wonderful man, Rubeus. I'm sorry I never met him." 

"Yeh'd've liked him," Rubeus said, smiling a bit. "He let me keep the most interesting pets."

***

The forest they had landed in as they crossed the border to Russia proper was unusually gloomy, even for the early evening. It wasn't just dark, though the close trees certainly blocked the sun enough to cause the understory to be thin and hardy.

No, there was a pall of despair over the entire place. 

"Why'd we come here, Mr Scamander?" Rubeus asked. "I don't think it's good for us to stay too long." 

Mr Scamander looked at him sharply. "Why do you say that?" 

Rubeus stuttered, realising he might have overstepped his bounds. "Er… I don't like the feel of it, sir," he said. "Too much bad feeling round here. Likely some Dark creatures around." 

"Indeed." Mr Scamander's voice was odd. Not quite flat; more like unsure. "Dark creatures, however, are certainly _fantastic_ , are they not?" 

Rubeus wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. Yes, Dark creatures _were_ fantastic. However, the fantasies they were from were more nightmare-like. He nodded, but added, "Let's not stay here, please?" 

"You’ve got a good head on you, Rubeus," Mr Scamander said. "Now let's look around a bit. This is rumoured to be a good area for finding Red Caps."

Rubeus shivered. Dark creatures, indeed. 

"Let's sit, then," he said, and reached into the travelling kettle for their camp chairs. He'd have more strength for fighting off Red Caps if he'd had a cuppa, so he lit a small fire as well. 

"Your magic is much better-controlled, Rubeus," commented Mr Scamander. 

"Like yeh said, practice makes perfect." Rubeus pulled out the tent but didn't set it up. He needed the kettle, not the campsite. 

The two of them resumed their projects: Rubeus drawing the trees and small woodland creatures around them, Mr Scamander adding to his reams of notes about the beasts of the northern climes. 

Slowly, Rubeus became aware of a creeping bit of red in his peripheral vision. Turning to Mr Scamander, he saw a ruddy, wizened creature holding a stick. "Look out!" he cried, startling both his companion and the Red Cap intruding on their tea. 

The Red Cap didn't run off, however, but looked at them, startled.

"Ha!" Rubeus said to it. "Yeh think _you've_ got a big stick?" He shook his own staff at the dwarflike creature. "Get a look at this one, yeh great oaf." 

The Red Cap narrowed its eyes as it examined Rubeus's walking stick. Then it grunted and turned, nearly flouncing as it made its way back into the trees. 

"Well?" Rubeus said, turning to Mr Scamander. "Yeh gonna follow 'im? I bet there's more in his burrow, in't there?" He shook his head. "Why yeh wan' ter learn more about Red Caps is beyond me, but this 'un don't seem too peeved. Might introduce us to the missus." 

Mr Scamander just stared at him. 

"Right," he said. "You better come with me, though. I'm not sure I could talk to them as well."

***

The Red Caps hadn't known quite what to do with them, but seemed convinced that whatever bludgeoning they could give to Mr Scamander would be avenged mightily by his larger companion.

Rubeus, though polite enough to them, didn't try to dissuade them of that. He'd seen the dent Mr Scamander had put in his travel kettle the last time he'd toured old battlegrounds. The man was clearly pants at certain types of self-defence. Namely, he was pants at thinking of harmless hexes that would scare off generally harmless creatures. 

Poor misunderstood Red Caps. Hearing their songs about the battles they'd witnessed, Rubeus was inclined to agree that Muggles might be better as foodstuff than as rulers of the world. 

Fortunately, he also knew that Muggles weren't as in control of their destinies as they thought. Muggles were pretty misunderstood, too—especially by themselves. 

What Rubeus was rather sure wasn't misunderstood was the Pogrebin that followed them from the Red Caps' hollows back to their makeshift camp. The closer they got to where their tea had been deserted, the sadder Rubeus felt. His great lips trembled, his bones ached with the grief over his da. 

When he sniffled, he was surprised to see an equally bleak looking Mr Scamander gazing up at him. 

"Feel like nothing will ever be good again?" muttered Mr Scamander. 

"It's awful," agreed Rubeus. "I just miss 'im so much…and I know I'd be a huge disappointment, getting sent down and all…" 

"Jump up and down," ordered Mr Scamander before spinning to cast a quick but powerful _Stupefy_ behind them.

"Alrigh' then, Mr Scamander?" Rubeus said, looking curiously at the Pogrebin. The demon was, like the Red Caps, human-shaped, but was nearly white in colour, without even pigmentation in its eyes. Its mouth was terrible: all jagged yellow teeth and breath like sour meats. Rubeus shuddered to think what those meats might have been. 

Mr Scamander looked at Rubeus and cast a Cheering Charm. Rubeus felt immediately warmer, not to mention grateful. 

"Now you cast it on me," Mr Scamander said. "Very lightly, mind. I'd like to still have some sense when you've done." 

Rubeus nodded and cast. Mr Scamander only giggled for a minute, but gave a ridiculously off-balanced kick to the still-Stupefied demon. 

"Now, Mr Scamander," Rubeus said. "No need fer that, now, right? We're safe enough, and kicking 'im when he's Stupefied…tha's jes mean, it is." 

Mr Scamander pouted, of all things, but nodded. "Alright then," he said.

Both of them paused for a few moments. 

"Let's fly a bit further northeast, into the mountains," Mr Scamander said when he'd regained himself. "Make sure to eat some chocolate while we do."

***

Something deep in Rubeus recognised the crags and caves of the Urals—it felt more like home than Hogwarts ever had, and they'd only just arrived.

It put Rubeus on edge. 

"Why'd we come here?" he asked nervously. "What creatures are we lookin' fer?"

"Not creatures, Rubeus," Mr Scamander said quietly. "Beings." 

"Beings?" 

Mr Scamander nodded. He looked awkward, which made Rubeus even more anxious. "I thought we'd look for the rest of your family, Rubeus. Since we're all the way in Russia already." 

Rubeus felt too many emotions: fear, anger, hope. "Yeh think me family's _here_?" he asked, looking down at the smouldering remains of fires among rough-hewn tables. 

"Yes. This is the area that Fridwulfa the Giantess came from, and this is the last clan in the area." 

Rubeus gulped. 

They stayed where they were for days, using magic to obscure their fires, casting Disillusionment spells on the tent. Rubeus watched as the giants moved together and apart, their voices booming when they spoke, their discussions as often as not ending with fistfights. He saw children toddling around; the measurement view with the Omnioculars told him even these kids who could barely balance were half his own height. He saw a woman—giantess—he recognised from the photographs on the mantle at his da's flat, photographs he'd carefully packed and brought with him to Hogwarts but never taken out of his trunk. 

She didn't look happy, but she didn't look warm, either. 

After three nights, Rubeus turned to Mr Scamander and said, "I can't go to them." 

Mr Scamander nodded sadly. "I think you're right." He sounded forlorn, and Rubeus realised the man had just wanted to give Rubeus something special, something he'd said he missed. 

Rubeus twisted his hands. "See, Mr Scamander," he started, then stopped to collect his thoughts. 

"Well, I reckon I jes' got ter thank yeh, Mr Scamander," he said, "for taking me on, for being almost like a da to me these past months." He took a breath. "I know I can be simple, but you've helped me become a better wizard an'—I hope—a better man." He took Mr Scamander's tiny hands in his own. "Yeh din't need ter bring me to me mum, not at all.

"Yeh gave me back magic, yeh see? I din't think I coulda done anything for meself, nothin' but sweepin' and weedin' at Hogwarts, and only that until someone finally got one over on Dumbledore and I'd hafta leave, anyroad.

"An' now… Now I have experience doin' summat, but I've also found someone who trusts me. And that's worth more 'an anything." 

Rubeus took a breath. He wasn't sure he'd ever said this much at one time to Mr Scamander. "So thank yeh," he said, and squeezed Mr Scamander's hands lightly. 

"Oh, my dear boy," Mr Scamander said. "You are most welcome."

***

By Christmas 1946, Rubeus Hagrid was back at Hogwarts, the brand-new gamekeeper hired on by the brand-new Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

Great man, Dumbledore. Even after spending the past several years organizing the Wizarding Resistance and nearly getting himself thrown into Nurmgard; even after having to fight the man rumoured to be his boyhood love, Dumbledore remembered a poor orphan who'd just wanted to befriend all the interesting creatures of Hogwarts. 

Rubeus looked around the Great Hall, taking pride in the twelve Christmas trees and the fairies he'd coaxed to shine and sing from them. Sweet-talking fairies, now that was something Mr Scamander had never asked to watch! 

Rubeus smiled fondly. Great man, Mr Scamander.

As he sat among the few students and staff gathered for Christmas breakfast, a flock of owls brought gifts to those around them. Rubeus would have to content himself with the Christmas cracker sitting by his plate, but that was fine. He was glad to be in a place where he could be useful, now that Mr Scamander was done researching the latest edition of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. 

Suddenly, a Eurasian Eagle Owl swooped in with a large package wrapped in red and gold. It landed right in front of Rubeus. 

"Hey, there, fella. Is 'at for me?" Rubeus crooned, reaching out. The owl allowed him to untie the gift, which let him see that it was indeed addressed to him. 

There was no card, but there were few people who would send Rubeus Hagrid a Christmas present, and most were sitting at his very table. 

Rubeus smiled and tore through the wrapping. 

"It's an advance copy!" he proclaimed to those around him.

> _**From Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (6th Edition):** _
> 
> _One of the questions that arises with each edition of this book is why certain Beings are so classified; why Giants, for instance, continue to be classified as Beings when they seem to have so little in common with humans and cannot be said to have the well-developed intellectual culture that most other Beings (e.g., Centaurs, Goblins, etc.) seem to have._
> 
> _The answer is that they aren't classified as non-wizard Beings, but as wizards (and witches) themselves. Giants are wizards who have inherited such great stores of magic that a greater vessel (body) is required to hold and harness it. However, their bodies grow faster than either their magic or their brains, which are then primarily occupied with survival and propagation of their families. In addition to their astonishing heights and masses, Giants inherit and cultivate stronger bonds with elemental magics, hence needing to remain in relatively undomesticated areas. They use elemental rituals to ensure the high levels of magic needed to birth and rear generations of ever-larger children, as well as for protection. Giants are also able to communicate ably with many sorts of magical creatures. This last is another reason they are often considered to be less-civilised, but it seems to me that it might make them particularly effective ambassadors to other magical Beings or Creatures._
> 
> _If, of course, we can make sufficient amends with them. After so many centuries of exile and persecution, it would be a rare Gurg who would deign even to meet with a domesticated wizard delegation._
> 
> _It would, however, be best for us to take the lessons from the recent Magical and Muggle wars and make amends with our Giant brethren. There has been too much bloodshed—too much genocide—in recent years for us to turn a blind eye to the suffering we cause our fellow wizards. If they are close enough to us to procreate (and I know of several cases of giant-wizard intermarriage in this century), then they deserve to be treated with the respect we think our own culture deserves…_
> 
> _**Acknowledgments:**  
>  I am, as ever, indebted to the staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the use of their wonderful research facilities, as well as for providing me with the challenging and inspiring companions Albus Dumbledore and Silvanus Kettleburn. _
> 
> _For this edition, I must also acknowledge a debt of gratitude to a young man, Rubeus Hagrid, who served ably as my assistant, my second set of eyes, and my conscience during the long months of research for this update. May you live well, my friend._
> 
> _\-- **Newt Scamander**_

Yes. Great man, Mr Scamander.

**The End**


End file.
